


wintergreen is 100% allergic to drama and sometimes that's a problem

by apprenticenanoswarm



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apprenticenanoswarm/pseuds/apprenticenanoswarm
Summary: in which slade errs





	wintergreen is 100% allergic to drama and sometimes that's a problem

 

Slade snored.

Most of Dick’s friends and associates would have agreed that, all things considered, that really wasn’t the foremost reason why sleeping with him was a bad idea.

Most of Dick’s friends and associates were _wrong_.

As the clock ticked steadily towards three in the morning, Dick examined his lover’s handsome, moonlit face and weighed its appeal against the horrible, horrible sounds coming out of it.

He’d slept in some nasty places. In alleys, in gutters, in garbage trucks and in prison. When Dick Grayson needed to shut his eyes for a while, there were very few forces in existence that could stop him.

But fuck. _Fuck_. Slade’s snores were an elephant’s death rattle. They’d have been annoyingly loud if Dick had been outside the room. And as warm as the man was, as delightfully fuzzy and firm as he was, Dick had places to be and things to do in the morning. He needed some fucking sleep.

He was trying to decide between climbing out of bed and sleeping on the couch or poking Slade in the ribs and making him sleep on the couch when the bedroom door creaked open.

 _Shit_.

With the noise Slade was making, it was little wonder Dick hadn’t heard the intruder coming up the stairs. He watched as light spilled onto the wall in front of him, and tried to discern, from the intruder’s silhouette, what threat level he was dealing with. Average height, not as broad as Slade, not moving like an assassin or…

“God, what a disgraceful racket.”

British. Male, older – possibly even in his sixties. Smoker.

“Could hear you from the car,” the voice continued, accompanied by the gentle thump of a suitcase being set down.

Slade, for his part, continued to snore. Useless asshole. 

“Well, I suppose I’m glad you’re not pacing the floor in anticipation of my return.” A faint chuckle.

Wait. Now the voice was ringing the bell. Whoever was speaking, Dick had definitely heard them before, not often, but…

The mattress shifted as a weight settled on the left side of it – Slade’s side. Watching the shadow, Dick thought that the newcomer had laid an arm on Slade’s shoulder. No, Slade’s scalp.

He was stroking Slade’s hair.

The _hell_?

“I noticed the dirty dishes in the sink. _Tsk_. Very slack, very slack indeed. Still, at least you ate real food. I know you tend to forget when no one’s around to remind…what in God’s name?”

The lamp beside the bed was switched on.

Dick and the newcomer stared at one another.

“Hi, Wintergreen,” said Dick, eventually.

Wintergreen’s mouth shut. “Mister Grayson. You…are here.”

“Yeah.”

He was wearing a slightly age-worn blue flat cap and a matching blue coat, beneath which Dick could just make out a holstered gun. That observation was quickly incorporated into the three in-progress escape plans bubbling in the back of Dick’s brain.

Dropping his gaze, Wintergreen mumbled, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Then his jaw tightened and he slapped Slade right across the face. “ _You. Get up_.”

Dick’s ears rung.

The blankets exploded upwards and suddenly Slade was on his feet, arms locked at his side, every inch of him rigid save for his exposed cock.

And if there’d been any doubt in Wintergreen’s mind as to what they’d been doing in bed together, there sure as fuck wasn’t now, Dick acknowledged with a sigh, snatching up a pillow to place over his lap.

“Billy,” said Slade, voice sleep-roughened and noticeably softer than was usual. “I’m glad you’re back.”

As hilariously pathetic as it sounded in context, the sentiment was obviously genuine. Wintergreen’s scowl softened a bit. “I’m glad to see you too. I would, however, like to know how you were imprudent enough to allow this horribly embarrassing scenario to arise.”

“Embarrassing?”

“For Christ’s sake, Slade – Grayson’s here! Naked! I almost climbed into bed alongside the poor boy.”

Slade looked at Dick as though only now remembering that he existed. “Ah. That…hmm. That’s unfortunate.”

Dick felt his expression contort into a perfect mirror of Wintergreen’s.

“Mister Grayson,” said Wintergreen, regarding Slade with narrowed eyes. “I do apologise for all this. I’m going to make a cup of tea – would you like one?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“Excellent. Let’s go downstairs. And then perhaps we can have a little chat.”

0

In what was probably a gesture of apology – he’d always been better at that than actually apologising – Slade cooked a late dinner (an omelette) for Wintergreen and an early breakfast (waffles) for Dick while the two of them sat at the kitchen table enjoying their tea.

“How was your trip?”

“Oh, fine. Bit of turbulence. Nothing much. And seeing Maurice is always a treat. How are your brothers?”

“Eh, the same. Had a fight with Jason but that’s hardly unusual.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Never had the opportunity to meet the lad myself but he’s garnered an impressive reputation.”

“I’ll tell him that. It’ll cheer him up.”

Slade put their plates down on the table in front of them. “Would either of you…”

“No,” they said in unison.

“Darling, why don’t you go unpack my bags?” said Wintergreen, firmly.

As soon as Slade had departed upstairs, Dick arched an eyebrow at the older man. “That was amazing. I’ve met Superman and he was less impressive than that moment. Can you teach me how to do it?”

“Comes with practice,” said Wintergreen, setting about his omelette. “God, I’m bloody starving. They gave us better meals during the war than they do on airplanes these days.”

Dick took a deep breath. “Look – let’s get it out of the way. Do you want me to fuck off? Because I totally understand if you do. It was shitty of Slade not to tell you about me.”

“Oh, he did. I’ve known about you for ages. Never bothered me. You make him happy and you keep him company when he’s away from me. Why on Earth would I want you to leave? No, I’m only annoyed because it was vulgar of him to allow his partners to run into one another in such an awkward fashion. Did you not know about me?”

“No, I…he told me about you, I just…”

“Assumed he was joking,” said Wintergreen, dabbing his lips. “It’s understandable. You’re closer to his age than I am. I do warn you, though, I won’t be making such a courteous counteroffer. If you want me to fuck off, you’re going to have to kill me.”

“Killing’s not my thing, to be honest. Besides, you also make him happy.”

“Thank you,” said Wintergreen, with a nod. “Then, if we are agreed, why don’t we see if we can come to some sort of amiable arrangement?”

0

“I can’t sleep like this,” Slade growled.

Sprawled over the left side of his chest, Dick murmured, “Good. Had enough of your goddamn snoring.”

Wintergreen, rather more neatly curled up on the right side of Slade’s chest, hummed in agreement. “Well said, Mister Grayson.”


End file.
